Inspiration Knocks

I fell into a YouTube nerdhole the other day. Oh, you know the one I’m talking about. Don’t say you’ve never done it. It’s an easy netherworld to get lost in and the algorithm-ists at YouTube know exactly what they are doing. 

But I scoffed at the next video I was served. 

Suddenly, all-American, “alright-alright-alright” actor Matthew McConaughey, is sitting in his usual uber-relaxed state, staring right at me, espousing the benefits of — wait for it — journaling. 

My first reaction? Oh geeeez. 

What could McConaughey (he seems like a guy who would call me by my last name too) possibly have to offer me on the power of writing?

But I continued to listen. I am, after all, trying to open my arms, mind, and heart to life these days.

I’m all for Matthew McConaughey. He seems very affable, genuine, and self-aware. I’m also all for journaling — it seems equally affable, genuine, and self-aware.

So why did I react to the video the way I did? With disdain?

I am guilty, as many of us are, of being judgemental. In an attempt to be as self-aware as McConaughey, I shed my judgy reaction and listened to what he had to say. Judgement is so short-sighted — and it can block us out from one of the most overlooked experiences in our lives: inspiration.

As McConaughey expounds on the value of journaling, he delves into how it can open us to a better understanding of ourselves and, in turn, the world.

“You have earned the right to get to know yourself as well, or better, than anyone else in this world,” he says. “Because if we don’t know ourselves, it’s damn hard to know and love somebody else.”

Well, if he ain’t right, I don’t want to know.

I found his words inspiring. A few years ago, I had chosen a path in life that didn’t align with the person I truly am and, in turn, I lost myself. I stopped creating. I stopped feeling. I didn’t know myself anymore — and as McConaughey says, you can’t know and love someone else if you don’t know yourself.

As I gradually re-introduced myself to myself, I was delighted to find that inspiration came to me far more frequently. And it’s not like I was making a conscious effort. It was just that I would be struck by a spark far more often than before.

As a songwriter, I am sometimes asked where I get my inspiration to write a song. I think people expect I am going to give a very succinct, yet emotional answer like, “Well, late last night I was ruminating on my first love, the one-that-got-away, and then I looked up at the stars and felt an explosion in my heart. And I started singing…”

But inspiration doesn’t work that way.

For me, inspiration most often strikes when I’m not looking to be inspired. It is when I am open. Vulnerable. Genuine.

The last time I was struck by inspiration I was cutting a peach. The peach itself wasn’t particularly awe-inducing, but I think I had left my mind open a crack. And I started humming a melody.

By having an open mind, uncluttered by any tasks — other than the relatively easy chore of slicing fruit — I had allowed inspiration to find that crack, that opening. More importantly, I listened to it.

I recorded a snippet of the idea on my phone. For me, a snippet means a basic chord structure and mumbling a few nonsensical words, just so the fleeting idea doesn’t get away from me. Sometimes I will utter something interesting and I will take a few minutes to explore the idea, but if nothing comes right away I continue what I was doing previously, in this case it meant back to the peach.

I got through one slice before I was back at the guitar. Earlier in the day, the phrase “don’t start something you can’t finish” went through my head. Perhaps I heard someone say it, or maybe by some mystical force I was given it as a springboard because it fit perfectly with the melody that had also come into my head.

I tend to overthink things, but in the case of situations like these where a lyric and a melody seem to find each other in the ether, I don't bother thinking about it at all. The whole point is to not think about it — because if you are too busy thinking about how the mystery works you won’t hear inspiration knocking at the door.

Knowing yourself lets you open that door.